Of late to '08
Posted on 2007-Dec-31 at 08:05
I walked into my new job in mid-November and straight into the thick of things. Kick starting a new company, it seems, is quite a bit of work – but exciting work, which is good. Will the ‘baby’ grow or will it fade away in its bed? Time will tell.
We are sharing office space with the “baby’s” older brother in the heart of central Perth. It is such a great city, complete with requisite suits hanging out of coffee shops and salad bars, the *click-clack* of ladies high heels merged with the *flip-flop* of thongs and board shorts and the familiar yet foreign accents of so many summer backpackers. However, upon leaving the tourist and commuter-laden footpath to my office on the first day, I suddenly emerged into the society of a bizarre alternative planet. A forgotten planet. Planet Late ‘70’s Outback Australia.
It wasn’t the décor. No, that was all very standard modern office cubicle stuff - each cubicle appropriately situating a dedicated employee surrounded by books and papers and computer. No, it was the employees themselves. The blokes, in particular.
After fidgeting and fluffing for a bit, I was in due course introduced to Man #1. He had a dark well-groomed handle-bar moustache, thick and luxuriant. Dude, I thought to myself, shaking his hand whilst making requisite small talk.
Then I was introduced to Man #2. He also had a handle-bar moustache, salt and pepper red, bright against his freckledy tan. Ten-four, Red Leader, thought I, smiling away.
Then there was Man #3, this one opting for the handle-bar moustache-with-sideburns combo, followed by – lo and behold – Mustachioed Man #4. He had a more traditional upper-lip mo neatly meeting the edges of his friendly upturned smile. Wow, these guys are really into thier facial topiary, I mused, though I yet said nothing about it.
I was shaking the hand of Moustachioed Man about #9 – noting a youthful rudimentary bar with accompanying bum fluff goatee – when the small talk cut to the orchestral arrangement of a classic old Australian VB commercial. The strains of the instantly recognizable and time-honoured tune filled the room and, at just the right moment, someone in the corner quipped “'Matter of fact… I’ve got it now.”
Like Pavlov’s Dog, I had the overwhelming urge to reach into an esky of melted ice, extract a freezing beer, put in in a neoprene cooler and switch the channel to some sports. That was it. Something strange was definitely going on here and I surreptitiously touched my own matronly mo as if it had been a factor in the cosmic circumstances of my new employment.
Finally, upon meeting Macho Moustachioed Man #10, I burst out laughing and asked if I should have worn some tennis stubbies and back-combed my ponytail? Surely it was some kind of theme day, yes?
It turned out that it was ‘Mo’-Vember: an aid organisation event with all proceeds going towards men’s health charities (you know, prostate cancer and the like). ‘Mo Bro’s’ are apparently sponsored and are not allowed to shave off their fashioned facial fur until the end of the month. It has been big in Australia for precisely the amount of time that I had been away (hence my having missed it) and, be aware, is soon coming to a country near you. :D
This indeed explained everything. Everything except the well-timed retro beer ritornelle. That, it turns out, was a mobile phone ring tone belonging to one of the girls - and one that I have since desperately coveted for myself, dammit (the ringtone, not the girl). :D
And so my new work auspiciously commenced. Within a couple of weeks I had also secured a small poo-brown flat in a suburb near the beach, Fremantle and beautiful Swan River and my new life back in Australia officially began.
It’s all run fairly smoothly, I suppose. Catching the train to work in the city and coming home again. Heading south to hang out with Nat and her family and friends when possible. I can’t complain. But I would be lying if I said I didn’t desperately miss Fundy. I used to be so independent, but it now just seems odd without him to poke and tease and laugh with. Soon, soon, I constantly remind myself, my whole being entered into Waiting Mode. Soon, soon. In another dimension I am part of a film clip for an old country and western song.
Still, work has kept me really busy. Fantastic chartered-boat-to-Rottnest-with-free-booze Christmas party aside (*hic*), I have also been really enjoying renewing all sorts of courses relevant to the job and getting paid to do so (for example: off-road driving, defensive driving, senior first aid and stuff like that). It’s at least been enough to keep me kind of interested and out of mischief.
Actually, the first aid course very nearly came in handy. Having just completed it, I was taking a short cut home that afternoon with my certificate fresh in hand when I came upon a man lying splayed and unconscious in a small alleyway car park. At first I thought he was just resting, leaning back and looking at the sky while waiting for someone or something; but then, nearing, I noticed his slack face and limbs all askew. Good God, I thought, I am actually going to have to put this first aid stuff into practice! EEK! My mind nervously ran through the various acronyms associated with resuscitation.
“Do you think that man is alright?” I questioned a youth now entering the scene from the opposite direction.
“I don’t know” the teenager replied, looking a bit freaked out and like he wanted to run away. I totally understood.
“HEY!” I at last projected, walking towards our victim. “HEY!! – are you alright..?”
The horizontal man struggled gamely to his elbows and wobbled unsteadily. “Merrrrrry Chrisssshtmas” he finally and confusedly burbled with a magnanimously drunken smile “MerrRRRrry CHRISHTmas”.
“Merry Christmas, yourself” I replied, laughing with relief.
* * *
And so here we are and it is New Years Eve. Another year over, another yet begun and all that. This time last year it was freezing cold and dark and grey and Fundy and the King and I were probably at the newly opened Village Inn. As a matter of fact, I know we were. :D Then Funds and I came home and cracked a bottle of red and watched fireworks from the window of good 'ol Number Five as we ushered in 2007. It seems like ages ago.
This year I am here by myself and it is 35 degrees C outside with bright sunlight burning uncovered flesh and salty sea air. I have been spending most of my free time at the beach and in the poo-brown flat swimming pool. My friends have gone away for the festivities and so I am spending this evening ushering in 2008 on my own. I could have gone with them, I know - but that is OK. It is more than OK because tomorrow Fundy finally steps off that plane and into my arms and we begin the New Year together. At last. It has been over three months since we saw each other. Three. Long. Months. I don’t need to tell you how much I am glad they are over. For Christmas I bought him tickets to see the Cat Empire, board shorts, sunscreen, black rubber double-plugger thongs (*ahem* - the ones you wear on your feet) and an Australian-flag beer cooler. He is henceforth, as of tomorrow, anointed an honorary Aussie.
And once again we push the button marked 'idiot' to see what comes out. :D
HAPPY NEW YEAR, everyone. May 2008 also bring you everything your heart desires.
Love always, Nic XXXXX
We are sharing office space with the “baby’s” older brother in the heart of central Perth. It is such a great city, complete with requisite suits hanging out of coffee shops and salad bars, the *click-clack* of ladies high heels merged with the *flip-flop* of thongs and board shorts and the familiar yet foreign accents of so many summer backpackers. However, upon leaving the tourist and commuter-laden footpath to my office on the first day, I suddenly emerged into the society of a bizarre alternative planet. A forgotten planet. Planet Late ‘70’s Outback Australia.
It wasn’t the décor. No, that was all very standard modern office cubicle stuff - each cubicle appropriately situating a dedicated employee surrounded by books and papers and computer. No, it was the employees themselves. The blokes, in particular.
After fidgeting and fluffing for a bit, I was in due course introduced to Man #1. He had a dark well-groomed handle-bar moustache, thick and luxuriant. Dude, I thought to myself, shaking his hand whilst making requisite small talk.
Then I was introduced to Man #2. He also had a handle-bar moustache, salt and pepper red, bright against his freckledy tan. Ten-four, Red Leader, thought I, smiling away.
Then there was Man #3, this one opting for the handle-bar moustache-with-sideburns combo, followed by – lo and behold – Mustachioed Man #4. He had a more traditional upper-lip mo neatly meeting the edges of his friendly upturned smile. Wow, these guys are really into thier facial topiary, I mused, though I yet said nothing about it.
I was shaking the hand of Moustachioed Man about #9 – noting a youthful rudimentary bar with accompanying bum fluff goatee – when the small talk cut to the orchestral arrangement of a classic old Australian VB commercial. The strains of the instantly recognizable and time-honoured tune filled the room and, at just the right moment, someone in the corner quipped “'Matter of fact… I’ve got it now.”
Like Pavlov’s Dog, I had the overwhelming urge to reach into an esky of melted ice, extract a freezing beer, put in in a neoprene cooler and switch the channel to some sports. That was it. Something strange was definitely going on here and I surreptitiously touched my own matronly mo as if it had been a factor in the cosmic circumstances of my new employment.
Finally, upon meeting Macho Moustachioed Man #10, I burst out laughing and asked if I should have worn some tennis stubbies and back-combed my ponytail? Surely it was some kind of theme day, yes?
It turned out that it was ‘Mo’-Vember: an aid organisation event with all proceeds going towards men’s health charities (you know, prostate cancer and the like). ‘Mo Bro’s’ are apparently sponsored and are not allowed to shave off their fashioned facial fur until the end of the month. It has been big in Australia for precisely the amount of time that I had been away (hence my having missed it) and, be aware, is soon coming to a country near you. :D
This indeed explained everything. Everything except the well-timed retro beer ritornelle. That, it turns out, was a mobile phone ring tone belonging to one of the girls - and one that I have since desperately coveted for myself, dammit (the ringtone, not the girl). :D
And so my new work auspiciously commenced. Within a couple of weeks I had also secured a small poo-brown flat in a suburb near the beach, Fremantle and beautiful Swan River and my new life back in Australia officially began.
It’s all run fairly smoothly, I suppose. Catching the train to work in the city and coming home again. Heading south to hang out with Nat and her family and friends when possible. I can’t complain. But I would be lying if I said I didn’t desperately miss Fundy. I used to be so independent, but it now just seems odd without him to poke and tease and laugh with. Soon, soon, I constantly remind myself, my whole being entered into Waiting Mode. Soon, soon. In another dimension I am part of a film clip for an old country and western song.
Still, work has kept me really busy. Fantastic chartered-boat-to-Rottnest-with-free-booze Christmas party aside (*hic*), I have also been really enjoying renewing all sorts of courses relevant to the job and getting paid to do so (for example: off-road driving, defensive driving, senior first aid and stuff like that). It’s at least been enough to keep me kind of interested and out of mischief.
Actually, the first aid course very nearly came in handy. Having just completed it, I was taking a short cut home that afternoon with my certificate fresh in hand when I came upon a man lying splayed and unconscious in a small alleyway car park. At first I thought he was just resting, leaning back and looking at the sky while waiting for someone or something; but then, nearing, I noticed his slack face and limbs all askew. Good God, I thought, I am actually going to have to put this first aid stuff into practice! EEK! My mind nervously ran through the various acronyms associated with resuscitation.
“Do you think that man is alright?” I questioned a youth now entering the scene from the opposite direction.
“I don’t know” the teenager replied, looking a bit freaked out and like he wanted to run away. I totally understood.
“HEY!” I at last projected, walking towards our victim. “HEY!! – are you alright..?”
The horizontal man struggled gamely to his elbows and wobbled unsteadily. “Merrrrrry Chrisssshtmas” he finally and confusedly burbled with a magnanimously drunken smile “MerrRRRrry CHRISHTmas”.
“Merry Christmas, yourself” I replied, laughing with relief.
* * *
And so here we are and it is New Years Eve. Another year over, another yet begun and all that. This time last year it was freezing cold and dark and grey and Fundy and the King and I were probably at the newly opened Village Inn. As a matter of fact, I know we were. :D Then Funds and I came home and cracked a bottle of red and watched fireworks from the window of good 'ol Number Five as we ushered in 2007. It seems like ages ago.
This year I am here by myself and it is 35 degrees C outside with bright sunlight burning uncovered flesh and salty sea air. I have been spending most of my free time at the beach and in the poo-brown flat swimming pool. My friends have gone away for the festivities and so I am spending this evening ushering in 2008 on my own. I could have gone with them, I know - but that is OK. It is more than OK because tomorrow Fundy finally steps off that plane and into my arms and we begin the New Year together. At last. It has been over three months since we saw each other. Three. Long. Months. I don’t need to tell you how much I am glad they are over. For Christmas I bought him tickets to see the Cat Empire, board shorts, sunscreen, black rubber double-plugger thongs (*ahem* - the ones you wear on your feet) and an Australian-flag beer cooler. He is henceforth, as of tomorrow, anointed an honorary Aussie.
And once again we push the button marked 'idiot' to see what comes out. :D
HAPPY NEW YEAR, everyone. May 2008 also bring you everything your heart desires.
Love always, Nic XXXXX
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